While in Phoenix, during the late summer of 1971, while we were out of town, my trusty Winchester, Model 12, twelve gauge pump with a modified barrel, that I had shot for over twenty years, along with all of my other guns, a new Sony TV that I won in a sales manager’s contest and my brand new Buick Electra 225, were stolen. What really upset me was that the thieves took my Dad’s Fox, sixteen, gauge, side by side. Many times I have wished that I had that old one back!

The car was found undamaged the next week, but nothing else was ever recovered. The police told me that my guns went to Mexico and that someone in Arizona (probably) got a real good Sony TV!

My insurance settlement, received in early fall, was quite generous and I headed to Oshman’s in Scottsdale to restock my weapons. Having become interested in trap shooting, my first purchase was a Remington 870, twelve gauge, with a trap barrel and ventilated rib. This shotgun served me very well over the five years that I shot competitive trap and it was also a deadly weapon on ducks and geese! But, if I had been real smart I would have invested in a Perotzzi trap gun! Laughingly, I say that, but I was never a good shot with a trap gun. The stocks high comb, and me being blessed with a short neck and arms, precluded me from getting my head satisfactorily down on the stock. A simple lengthening of my 870’s stock was all it took to give me the correct sight picture for trap shooting.

As soon as we moved to Arizona, we started seeing Gambel quail and our roamings in the foothills and the deserts only showed us more of these remarkable, little runners. This led to my second purchase, a Remington 870, twenty gauge, pump with a ventilated rib and skeet barrel that I shot for over thirty-five years. However, not planning to shoot skeet, this shotgun, shooting “heavy” one ounce, reloads of seven and a halfs or eights, chalked up amazing numbers of quail and doves. One afternoon in Mexico, using the twenty, gauge, pump, I shot one hundred white wings with one hundred twenty-nine shells! On the skeet field it was equally impressive, helping me to shoot many twenty-fives European style. My Son, Randy, has this gun now.

I don’t think that I was a “natural” shooter although in the Army I shot Expert with the M-1 Garand and M-2 Carbine. Probably friendly pasters! But I did learn early on that if you’re going to be a good, competitive shooter, you had to practice regularly. This practice carries over into the field, helps in judging shot distances and reinforces the proper shooting techniques – see the proper sight picture whether you track, lead or swing on the target, keep your head down on the stock, keep swinging after you shoot and pretty soon the hits will really start to add up whether you’re shooting clay or real birds.

In 1975 returning to Arizona on a business trip, I found out what befell the thieves that broke into my house and stole my stuff and how they were finally apprehended. Their “business” was so good they had opened a used furniture store on Indian School Road in east Phoenix and of course much of the stock was stolen goods. They had just committed another home robbery taking a TV and some guns. Of all things, the latest victim showed up in their used furniture store looking for a TV to replace the one these guys had just stolen. Spotting one just like his, he looked a little closer and saw his Social Security number that he had engraved on the back. He left the store without a purchase, went to the police and thus ended the careers of a vicious gang of thieves.

Their store closed too, but I heard they had a get your stuff sale, not a going out of business sale!

During the summer of 1971, after I moved to Phoenix, Arizona, it was time to get ready for the opening of dove Season on September 1. At the time, way out north on Scottsdale Road, there was a trap shooting facility, The Shot Yard, and I carted my shooting age family out to hone our skills for the upcoming bird season.

The proprietor of The Shot Yard happened to be from Houston, and when he was in Houston had been a salesman for another large computer company. We had shared several accounts competitively and I had scored some significant wins against him. He changed professions.

We were a motley crew lining up to shoot with the “pros”, but as we prepared for the upcoming season, it soon became clear to me, my, 12 year old, son, Brad, and my former wife that we had stumbled upon a family sport. We were smoking the clay birds with regularity and the misses, became few and far between.

Our first dove season in Arizona was a resounding success, helped along by our trap shooting practice. Randy, age 8 and Suzanne, age 4, served as “fetchers”, but Suzanne could never learn to pull off the downed dove’s head.

Soon after dove season ended, quail season started, and my love affair with Quail hunting reached passionate heights. The first Gambel quail that I shot is mounted and displayed on the gun cabinet on our old ranch house. It has held up remarkedly well with 2, cross country, and 5 in state moves.

I well remember the shot on the first quail, a long one, in the Salt River bottom, west of Phoenix. One feather came fluttering down, the bird kept flying, and plop, fell to the ground with one shot pellet having entered under its right wing and pierced its heart.

Too soon, quail season ended but in early 1972, The Shot Yard’s proprietor, talked us into entering a competitive trap shoot he was holding. For the family’s first go at trap shooting, we did well and quickly became “hooked”.

My first win at a trap tournament was in May of 1972 in Show Low, Arizona where, to determine the winner, I was involved in a four person, “shoot-off”. Feeling nerves, but taking my station on the line, and turning up my concentration, I was able to hit five straight clay pigeons while my opponents fell out, one by one. One added bonus, my mother, Ruth Bryan, was visiting my family in Arizona and she was able to watch this shoot and watch my win in the “shoot-off”.

Being the last man standing meant victory and as a trophy a very nice Nambe Ware salad bowl set, a winner’s check for $200.00 and over $200.00 more for winning the Calcuttta. Since none of the experienced shooters knew me I “bought” myself for $2.00. As the years went by it became extremely difficult for me to purchase myself in the Calcuttas. If another shooter or spectator bought me he would win eighty percent of the pot and me, the shooter, would only get twenty.

By the fall on 1973, Brad and my ex were state champions in their respective classes and I had moved to the number 2 spot in the statewide rankings of handicap shooters. In handicap shooting, the shooters are classed by yardage from 18 to 27 yards, depending on individual skill and past wins. Small purses were paid for 1st, 2nd and 3rd place finishes, but the “big money” was won in the Calcuttas!

What started as a “tune-up” for dove season, had now become an avocation for my family, but again, my day job interfered with it.

Sometimes a good day job can really interfere with your avocation

My last trap shoot was in 1975, at the Moccasin Bend Trap Club, in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and we decided to make a family weekend out of it. The family piled into our camper (we didn’t have a Suburban then) and we took the leisurely 2, hour drive from Sandy Springs, Georgia to Chattanooga and checked into the Chattanooga Choo-Choo, a real neat hotel converted from an old bunch of sleeper cars, complete with a dining car. In 2014, the kids still talk about it!

We visited “See Ruby Falls”, we saw “Ruby Falls” and when they turned the lights out, we were appropriately scared! Not only did we see the advertisements on the barns along the freeway, but also we saw the Incline Railway, Lookout Mountain battlefield and Chickamauga, the site of the largest battle fought in the western theatre during our Civil War.

Sunday morning found us on the way to the gun club and I was going to surprise the good ‘ole boys in Tennessee. Being a real “hot” shooter out west, but not known east of the Mississippi, I “bought” myself in the Calcutta for a whopping $3.00, the minimum amount. The handicap event began, and I was placed with the long yardage shooters and I was breaking clays automatically. Walking to the last station and leading the shoot, the thought of my potential winnings, over $1,000.00 flashed through my mind and was quickly pushed out and my concentration returned.

“Pull,” I barked and the clay pigeon wobbled out of the trap machine, a hard right bird, which I led and pulled the trigger, no Bam, no ignition of the shell. The puller/ scorekeeper called out “lost bird” with just me looking funny at my trusty Remington 870, Trap Model Shotgun.

The trigger mechanism had broken. I had five minutes to fix the trigger, or get another gun, otherwise I would be disqualified and my only option was to get my ex-wife’s Remington 1100 Automatic, with a shortened stock.

I missed three out of the last five clays and finished second, which paid $200.00, plus another $150.00 from the Calcutta (not bad for 1975). So much for a big “hit” and after this shoot, I retired myself from competitive shooting. My kids were very active in sports and my day job required too much of my time.

I say again, “Sometimes a good day job can really interfere with your avocation.”

It’s still hot in central Texas and we were dressed accordingly!  Late yesterday morning we went our and shot my .380 pistol, the pistol has a built in laser sight that we used extensively and it really improved our accuracy.

Suz and her boys came down for a stay, they went home yesterday, but before they started traveling back to Paris, Texas that is, she, Wesley and I went out to try out a new, for her, pistol, my .380 carry gun and of course I have a CHL license.  From this brief trial, just think, her husband Paul, now will have to shell out and get her one like this!

We started out shooting from 10 paces, she’s a very good shot, but sprayed a couple, then I turned on the laser and of course, her scores improved dramatically!  It is amazing how you center the little red dot and the gun responds, as if by magic!

Once Suz had shot enough, she turned the pistol over to me and I cut loose too

The target we used shows the accuracy, the high and low shots were without the laser.

Of course Wesley wanted to know all about the .380 and below I’m showing him.

That reminds me of a story Brad brought back from Iraq.  They were a blocking force one night and a car sped toward them, they stopped the car, Brad whipped out his laser pointer, the Iraqis, thinking it was attached to a rifle or pistol became very docile as he centered the little red dot on each of the vehicles occupant’s forehead.  Needless to say, they were “bad guys” and never found out they were captured by a laser pointer.

Right in front of me the colombaire yelled, “Listo”, he was a man around 50 years old, left handed, with all the moves of a baseball pitcher, which professionally he was in his youth. Nervously answering, “Pull”, he overhanded a pigeon right in front of me, it darted low, he hit the ground, and with too much movement in front of me, I shot 2 holes in the sky, completely missing the bird. What an inauspicious start to my first pigeon shoot!

The second practice bird cleared the rope, climbed fast to my right, an easy shot, I nailed it and down it went. The colombaire said, “Second barrel”, looking at him with a confused look on my face, he almost shouted, “Second barrel”, then I remembered to discharge my second shot into the air, which is a safety rule. In all of my trap shooting, clay bird shooting and hunting activities, if you hit a bird on the first shot, you didn’t waste the second. Missing both shots on my last practice bird, I thought to myself, this is much harder than sporting clays or trap shooting and much worse than shooting mourning doves on a real windy day, but this is a sport I could really like!

Thinking to myself, How did I get in this spot shooting in a live pigeon shoot? Brad had been invited to participate in the shoot and in mid March 2006 we drove over to east Texas for the event. He was still recovering from extensive surgery, radiation and chemotherapy the past summer that had removed and treated a stage 4, tumor on his right tonsil. He believed that he was well enough to shoot and was looking forward to it! He had been on the Army rifle team, and, for two years had been the Arizona junior trap champion and remained an expert shot with both a rifle and shotgun. Brad had asked me to accompany him then added, “Why don’t you bring your shotgun along.” Needing no encouragement, I accepted the offer, but did not expect to even use the gun.

The pigeon shoot was a benefit for Jubalee Junction, a nonprofit organization that provided deer, duck and wild hog hunting for severely injured people who still had the desire to be in the field and take part in outdoor activities. It’s founder, David Gates, was a banker in a small East Texas town and a wonderful guy! He was a severely injured victim of an industrial accident, but spending time around him you could never tell. After a restful night we met David for the 30, minute drive to the shoot that was held on private land, deep in the Trinity River bottom. Pigeon shoots aren’t against the law, but secluded, private locations are necessary to keep all the “Tree Huggers” out!

Pigeon shoots are conducted on a 100 yard, half-circle, field with distance markers spaced every 20 yards around the circumference. To be counted as a kill, the bird must fall within this half-circle. The shooter stands in a roped off, chalk lined rectangle 20 yards wide and 10 yards deep that is placed in the middle of the half- circles base and the shooter can shoot from anywhere within this rectangle. In front of the shooter the thrower of the pigeon, the colombaire also has a rectangle the size of the shooters for him to maneuver in. Once he is in position and ready to throw, he says “Listo”, which means he can’t move until throwing the bird. The shooter says, “Pull”, and away goes the bird.

To the shooters front, the posts and ropes, ten feet off of the ground, are for the safety of the colombaire, and when he throws the pigeon, to be a legal bird, it must clear the ropes. Since he is throwing the pigeon from in front of the shooter, this gives the colombaire a margin of safety. However, when the pigeon clears the ropes and then dives back down toward the ground, the colombaire must hit the ground quickly to avoid being shot. Being quick and smart is a definite job requirement!

Brad got 3 practice birds and moved into the shooters area, shouldering his shotgun, “Listo,” said the thrower and Brad countered, “Pull”, the bird rocketed over the rope climbing for all it is worth. Pow! The bird folded and Pow, Brad discharged the second shot. Again, a shooter gets two shots to hit the bird and if successful on the first, must discharge the second into the air.

Brad turned around and said to David, “The gun’s recoil puts too much pressure against the implant in my jaw and I don’t think that I can continue. Is it OK for my Dad to shoot in my place?” David said, “Fine,” and startled, I quickly prepared.

To be continued on March 10th.

Unceremoniously finishing my practice birds, 5 more shooters, then the real shoot would start. Getting to watch some very good shooting, I picked up some useful pointers. Don’t be glued to the middle of the shooting area. Change your position once the colombaire says “Listo” and he can’t change his. Your initial aim point is the center of the middle rope. Block out the colombaire’s movements and just watch the bird. Keep both eyes open and concentrate on the pigeon. And a truism of all wing shooting, swing through your shot, don’t stop your swing until the bird is hit and always be ready for a second shot!

My turn came up as the lady in front of me finished with the lead having knocked down 7 out of 10 birds thrown. Being nervous, I took a half breath, walked to my position and looked the colombaire in the eye. His lips moved, but with ear protectors on and being hard of hearing from too much shooting without them, I heard nothing. I told him to speak louder and he smiled and said “Listo.” “Pull,” I answered and the bird sailed over the rope and dove to the ground and Pow, Pow, I missed both shots!

After the miss my nerves were gone and I hit 8 straight birds including a long, long shot of over 75 yards with the bird falling just inside of the flags. Concentrating completely, being deaf and having ear protectors on I could only hear the “Listoes”. But Brad told me later that I really had all of the other shooters attention. “Who is that guy with the wide shoulders?” “ I have never seen him shoot before.” “That old guy can really shoot!” “What a long shot!” The crowd murmured.

On my last bird, 9 of 10 should win the shoot for sure, the colombaire stood right in front of me, smiled and said, “Listo”, I moved 2 side shuffles to my left, clearing him, he took 2 spins forward as if to release the bird like a discuss, then of all things, released it behind his back. The bird was flying between the colombaire and me, and I’m completely faked out, in the wrong position to shoot a hard right bird and Pow, Pow, 2 feeble misses. The colombaire then did something I had not seen him do with the other shooters, he came toward me, held out his hand, and smiled saying, “Good Shooting.” Everyone was patting me on the back, shaking my hand and congratulating me, but I was worried that one of the last 5 shooters would tie or beat me.

The last 4 shooters had sixes and sevens and, as in all good stories, the last shooter a young man probably in his mid twenties, and sporting an old, beat up, 12 gauge, pump, tied me. He missed his first bird, then shot seven in a row, missed number 9 and hit an easy straight away for 8. We tied and to determine the winner, a shoot off was needed.

Having come to the shoot to support Brad, I found myself in a shoot off for the championship. This wasn’t planned, but I would definitely do my best. The colombaire was primed to make both of us work hard for the victory. While he paced around in the throwing area, he was getting the bird ready, pulling tail feathers out and swinging it around,. We both missed the first 2 birds, our colombaire stepping up the level of his throws. Shooting first, I nailed a low bird right past the rope and my opponent hit a high, climber. I got a discuss type, behind the back bird to my right and dusted it on the first shot, but hit it square on the second and my opponent hits on his second shot also.

Still tied, I moved to the shooters position, and the colombaire was smiling and pulling tail feathers out. I’ve seen everything he has I thought, so he spun and released the bird with his right hand, a hard left one and I hadn’t seen that! Pow, Pow, I missed. My opponent won the shoot with an easy climber. My young opponent was the best shooter that day. Second place still paid handsomely, but I donated my winnings to Jubalee Junction!

However, second guessing, I think that if I had hit the hard left bird, our colombaire would have pulled one of his tricks on my opponent. Who knows?

On Monday, I decided to shoot my .17 HMR, then I thought to myself Since I hadn’t shot the new rifle since I sighted it in why not check it out?  The new one, a .243, hasn’t been exposed to any hunts, yet, but it’s lightweight and from the sight in, handles quite well and shoots where you hold it!

First up was my .17 HMR and from 50 yards I put all 15 shots in the 10 ring.  Of course, I forgot to take my camera along, so no picture.

Next up, and last, was the new .243.  Having sighted it in at 100 yards, I held on the red dot and here are the results.

On my way out to hunt Monday afternoon, I walked by the shooting range and took this picture of the grouping.

I musta’ pulled off on one, but still not bad shooting for an old guy!

On November 5, the day before deer season opened, I went down to Mills County General Store, and bought me a new .243 rifle. It was a Remington, Model 770. Back in 1978 I bought Randy a Remington 660 in .243, caliber. He has killed over 30 deer with it and it has served him well. In fact his two oldest sons, Austin and Sean have used it successfully to score their first kills. This story is highlighted in my November 13, 2009 post, “[Like Father, Like Sons]”.

Back to my new rifle, I took it out to my range and at 25 yards it put 1 high and 1 low and right away, I knew something wasn’t right. That something was the scope and for some reason it was loose. Taking it back to the General Store, they fixed it, now, between deer season and high school football and basketball, I’ve finally carved out some time, hopefully, to get the new rifle sighted in.

Sunday afternoon, after a lunch of chicken fajitas, guacamole, sweet tea and plenty of hot sauce, I took the new rifle out to my range and sighted it in, however, using all of my bullets, and with my 100 grain, BTSP being back ordered, I’ll have to buy some “store” bullets. I’ll order these tomorrow from [The Sportsman’s Guide], with them having a very competitive price and a good selection of [rifle ammunition]!

Here’s a pic of me sighting in the rifle. Notice the sack of corn under the rifle. The corn gives as good stability as a fancy gun holder and costs less than $6.00 and, price performance wise, it’s hard to beat that deal! Looks like 2 money savings tips to me.

Having just purchased a new Remington .243, this past Monday I was on-line shopping for rifle ammo. Googling “rifle ammo” up popped some familiar names, but one, The Sportsmen’s Guide was new to me. Not only, did I find the .243 Remington [ammo] that I was looking for, but also, I found that their price for this product was low, extremely low!

Normally I shoot and reload a .270 and that will remain my primary rifle for our Texas hill country deer, but since I haven’t purchased bulk bullets yet, I’ll order the [ammo] from Sportsmen’s Guide and go ahead and sight it in with store bought. We’re almost overrun with varmints, see my posts on November 8, 2010, “[Opening Day]” and January 21, 2010, “[Deer Season Ends]”, the .243 will be great for anything around here including hogs and coyotes.

During the late summer of 1971, while we were out of town, my trusty Winchester, Model 12, twelve gauge pump with a modified barrel, that I had shot for over twenty years, along with all of my other guns, a new Sony TV that I won in a sales manager’s contest and my brand new Buick Electra 225, were stolen. What really upset me was that the thieves took my Dad’s Fox, sixteen gauge, side by side. Many times I have wished that I had that old one back!

The car was found undamaged the next week, but nothing else was ever recovered. The police told me that my guns went to Mexico and that someone in Arizona (probably) got a real good Sony TV!

My insurance settlement, received in early fall, was quite generous and I headed to Oshman’s in Scottsdale to restock my weapons. Having become interested in trap shooting, my first purchase was a Remington 870, twelve gauge, with a trap barrel and ventilated rib. This shotgun served me very well over the five years that I shot competitive trap and it was also a deadly weapon on ducks and geese!

But, if I had been real smart I would have invested in a Perotzzi trap gun! Laughingly, I say that, but I was never a good shot with a trap gun. The stocks high comb, and me being blessed with a short neck and arms, precluded me from getting my head satisfactorily down on the stock. A simple lengthening of my 870’s stock was all it took to give me the correct sight picture for trap shooting.

As soon as we moved to Arizona, we started seeing Gambel quail and our roamings in the foothills and the deserts only showed us more of these remarkable, little runners. This led to my second purchase, a Remington 870, twenty gauge, pump with a ventilated rib and skeet barrel that I shot for over thirty-five years.

However, not planning to shoot skeet, this shotgun, shooting “heavy” one ounce, reloads of seven and a halfs or eights, chalked up amazing numbers of quail and doves. One afternoon in Mexico, using the twenty gauge, pump, I shot one hundred white wings with one hundred twenty-nine shells! On the skeet field it was equally impressive, helping me to shoot many twenty-fives European style. My Son, Randy, has this gun now.

I don’t think that I was a “natural” shooter although in the Army I shot Expert with the M-1 Garand and M-2 Carbine. Probably friendly pasters! But I did learn early on that if you’re going to be a good, competitive shooter, you had to practice regularly. This practice carries over into the field, helps in judging shot distances and reinforces correct shooting techniques – see the proper sight picture whether you track, lead or swing on the target, keep your head down on the stock, keep swinging after you shoot and pretty soon the hits will really start to add up whether you’re shooting clay or real birds.

In 1975 returning to Arizona on a business trip, I found out what befell the thieves that broke into my house and stole my stuff and how they were finally apprehended. Their “business” was so good they had opened a used furniture store on Indian School Road in east Phoenix and of course much of the stock was stolen goods.

They had just committed another home robbery taking a TV and some guns. Of all things, the latest victim showed up in their used furniture store looking for a TV to replace the one these guys had just stolen. Spotting one just like his, he looked a little closer and saw his Social Security number that he had engraved on the back. He left the store without a purchase, went to the police and thus ended the careers of a vicious gang of thieves.

Their store closed too, but they had a get your stuff sale, not a going out of business sale!